


Hot Chocolate

by 2hoots



Category: Coraline (2009), Psychonauts (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Mystery Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2hoots/pseuds/2hoots
Summary: Dreams aren’t always as private as you’d expect - especially when you’re rooming with psychics. oneshot, 2461 words.





	Hot Chocolate

Run. Leap. Freefall.

A moment of tension. Then, weightlessness.

The ceiling and then the floor spinning above him; the colours of the big top blurring as he flies, and twists, and lands.

 

A voice.

“Needs work. Make your movements sharper as you come off the trapeze. The exit’s sloppy.” Two claps, ringing out in the space. “Again!”

 

He wants to protest. His limbs are burning, and an aching fatigue has clawed its way into him, bone-deep. But as he looks down, he sees water spilling over the dirt floor. At first it’s just a trickle; then, lapping hungrily at the sides of the tent, it begins to rise.

He has no choice.

He runs to the edge of the platform, and leaps, throwing himself at the next trapeze. It swings him in a high arc, and he catches onto the surface of the waiting ladder and begins to scramble up it. There’s a laugh from somewhere up above him, and though he knows he shouldn’t - he doesn’t have time, he needs to focus - he still cranes his neck and looks up.

 

Usually, this is where the dream changes, becomes a nightmare.

Usually, when he looks up, he sees his dad. An exaggerated, grotesque version of the man, with a twisted, hunched posture and a leering grin; one who would berate him at every jump, every stumble. Usually, he would end up losing his grip on a slick railing, or getting caught by a thrown juggling pin, or simply climbing until he could no more; then he would fall, and hit the water, and the dream would be over.

 

But this time, he looks up and sees nothing. The claustrophobic dome of the big top is gone. Instead, he’s in this huge tunnel, stretching up further than he can see, into inky darkness. The walls are white, and as he watches they pulse and shudder, almost like breathing. When he looks down, he’s met with the same abyss as above; but from far below, he can hear something scuttling.

 

Raz abruptly realises this is no longer his dream.

Things fuzz, and then come into focus, like a TV antenna being tuned, as his conscious mind rouses and the dream becomes lucid. He hasn’t had this particular nightmare in a long time, he notes as he resumes the climb. That should have been the first clue.

 

The scuttling noise is getting louder, and as he hefts himself onto a platform here’s a loud hiss, below him but much closer than expected. Despite himself, Raz can’t quell the pang of terror that seizes his heart. This is, after all, not _his_ nightmare. He’s not in control. But these terrors are only guests in his mind; this is nothing compared to the peril of whoever’s nightmare this _really_ is.

A breeze against his cheek makes him freeze. Then, a sing-song voice, carried upwards:

“Coraline… Where are you, Coraline?”

 

Oh.

_Oh._

 

A ripple runs up the tunnel, shaking the platform that he’s standing on. He wheels his arms to regain his balance as there’s a gust of hot, stale air from below. The spiderweb tunnel below him is contracting, squeezing, and the platform below his starts to fracture and crumble as the voice calls up again.

“Coraline… you can’t hide from me, silly girl!”

Time to move.

Raz flings himself onto the next trapeze just as the floor under his feet starts to tremble. He swings back, and forth, and lets go. He has enough momentum to swing straight off the second one to the third, and another gust of warm air gives his levitation the boost it needs to carry him to the next platform. He hits it at speed, rolling on his hands and knees, and as he gets up he can feel the prickle of splinters in his palm from what’s suddenly rough wood.

“I can see you, Coraline!”

He casts about, desperately, for the next swing. The path upwards has degraded, the twisted gauntlet becoming little more than a collection of fractured wooden stepping stones, hanging in the air.

“I can ALWAYS SEE YOU!”

They’ll have to do. He takes a few steps back, then leaps. A boost from his levitation carries him to the first platform. There’s a huge crack running through it, and it’s too small for a running start. He barely makes the next one, catching it by the tips of his fingers and heaving himself up with a grunt. The next one after that is barely big enough to put both his feet on, and he stumbles and almost falls as one heel catches on something jutting from the wood.

It’s a door handle. He seizes it, giving an experimental twist, and then yanks upwards. His feet are left on nothing but slivers of wood as the door in between swings open. The passage inside is cramped and dusty, but Raz can see a light at the end.

 

The world around him shudders, and he throws himself into the passageway just as another gust of wind rips the platforms to shreds around him. He skids on his elbows and knees, coughing as a plume of dust hits his face.

Something bangs on the door behind him.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING, CORALINE?”

He scrambles down the passage. It’s a tight fit - something catches his shoulder and he desperately squirms underneath it, fingers dragging narrow channels in the dirt walls as he gropes for a handhold. Another bang on the door.

**“COME BACK HERE, YOU DESPICABLE CHILD!”**

He has to keep going - but the light keeps getting further and further away, he swears the passage is constricting around him, squeezing him, choking him -

**“YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE!”**

He has to keep going -

**_“NEVER!”_ **

 

* * *

  


Coraline awoke with a gasp.

Movies had always taught her that when someone woke up from a nightmare, they sat bolt upright, flinging their sheets away. Sometimes they would scream as well, for good measure.

The truth was much crueler. Even though the dream was over, sleep still hung over you. Paralysing your limbs. Making it hard to tell whether that arm on the pillow next to you was actually _yours_ ; whether that was your own breathing, or someone else’s. Whether the shadow in the corner of the room was moving. For a few seconds, the line between dream and reality was blurred. In the darkness of the room, as your eyes vainly tried to focus, the terror of the nightmare was suddenly close and sharp and _real_.

Coraline had found that all out the hard way.

 

She gulped down air in short, sharp breaths - then closed her eyes, leant back and concentrated on holding it, letting the air out slowly. Her heart was racing, pounding in her ears, but as she breathed in and out she could feel it beginning to calm. She wasn’t back in the other world. She was here, in the shack, with her friends. She’d won. She was safe.

She’d _won_.

 

Slowly, she sat up, disentangling herself from the crumpled sheets. She was soaked in sweat, and the sudden chill of air against her skin made her shiver. Carefully, as to not to wake the others, she picked her way across the bedroom and headed down the hall towards the kitchen.

 

The hum of the microwave seemed impossibly amplified in the empty kitchen, but as she watched the mug spin slowly on the glass table inside, Coraline was almost grateful for the grating buzz. It filled up her ears, stopping her from jumping at sounds - and, being an old house, the shack had its fair share of creaky floorboards and loose roof tiles. She’d left the kitchen light off, able to navigate the cupboards in the faint gloom of the hall light outside. Now she had drawn herself up in the pool of light spilling out from the microwave door, an island in the darkness.

 

Three, two, one - she stopped the countdown before it hit zero to stop it from beeping, and slid her hand around the mug. The spoon clinked against the sides as she stirred the hot chocolate, took a sip, and then slid it back in, setting the timer for another thirty seconds.

“Rough night?”

The voice from the doorway made Coraline’s hand stall over the button. Raz was leaning against the doorframe, the slope of his shoulders silhouetted by the light outside. His eyes, unusually bright in the darkness, seemed to be sizing her up.

Coraline sighed, and scrubbed her hand through her hair. It still felt sticky, and she could feel it had matted in odd places where she’d been tossing and turning.

“Yeah,” she said weakly. “You could say that.”

 

Raz straightened up, and came to perch next to the microwave on the countertop as Coraline set it off again. When she looked up, he was clasping his hands together, apparently deep in thought.

“You know how - sometimes, you’re in a public place, and you accidentally start listening to someone’s conversation?” he said, slowly. “You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but… it’s a part of your brain that’s hard to turn off.”

He turned to her, eyes searching her face for a reaction. “Being psychic is a little bit like that, sometimes. Even with practise and training, sometimes I still - pick up things that I shouldn’t.”

Coraline tipped her head - glanced at the microwave timer (fourteen seconds) - and raised an eyebrow at him. He winced slightly, but continued.

“During sleep, the - the mind is more unguarded,” he said. “And so, people often broadcast their thoughts while they’re asleep, without even realising. Especially if - if it’s a dream with strong emotions, like…”

There was a _click_ as Coraline swung the microwave door open.

“Like a nightmare,” she said, watching the steam from her hot chocolate fill the microwave. Raz nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I only saw part of it, but that… doesn’t make it any better.”

He twisted his fingers as Coraline took the mug out, gently cupping it between her palms. It was hot to the touch, almost uncomfortably so.

“It’s fine,” she said, averting her eyes to take a sip. “Whatever.”

 

Raz didn’t seem to be fooled. He swung his legs off the counter, and went to join Coraline as she pulled up a seat at the table. She leant over the mug, letting the steam curl against her face. When she looked back up, Raz was still watching.

“It’s private. Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I saw something I shouldn’t have - the very least I can do is keep it to myself. Don’t worry,” he repeated. Coraline couldn’t muster a smile, so she simply nodded as he continued.

“...but. _If_ it was something you wanted to talk about - _if_ ,” he emphasised, hands out in a gesture of peace, “then just let me know.”

 

Coraline nodded again. Her eyes fell to the marbled surface of her hot chocolate, and she took another sip as she tried to figure out what to say next.

“Does that happen often?” she asked, shifting the subject. “Accidentally… seeing people’s dreams?”

Raz shrugged. “Sometimes. Not so often, not any more - I’ve gotten a lot better with it. It used to happen a lot with…”

He trailed off, dropping his hands to the table with a frown. Coraline tipped her head, brows raised in a silent question; after a moment, he relented.

“Well, with my _dad_ ,” he said. “I don’t remember when I started being able to pick up on them… I was maybe six or seven.” He laughed. “It took me a long time to realise I was seeing someone _else’s_ nightmares.”

It was an inappropriate question, Coraline knew - but she was too tired for the appropriate filters to beat it back, and it was on her tongue before she could stop it. “What were they about?”

Raz looked up, meeting her gaze, and Coraline suddenly regretted asking.

“The curse,” he said. “My dad saw his whole family die. He’s the only one left.”

 

Coraline leant back, and blew out her cheeks.

“Jeez,” she said. “That’s horrible.”

Raz’s brows were furrowed for a moment. Then he waved her off.

“Anyway, like I said, it doesn’t happen as much any more. I’ve had a lot of practise blocking that stuff out. For something to still have gotten through, it must have been generating _incredibly_ strong negative emotions.”

Coraline shifted under his pointed stare, uncomfortable at once again being the center of the conversation.

“I told you, I’m fine,” she said, more harshly than she’d intended. “It’s just a stupid nightmare, about… something from a long time ago.”

“Well, nightmares are serious business, Coraline.” Raz tapped his temple. “Take it from me - they can wreak havoc on your psyche if unchecked.”

 

Coraline traced the top of her mug with her thumb. She could see her reflection in the liquid below; it rippled and scattered as she turned the mug between her palms.

“Look,” she sighed, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. Really. I just had some bad memories stirred up, but I’ve dealt with this before. I’ll pull through.”

Raz was studying her, fingers grasping the edge of the table. His posture was tense, and there was an edge to his voice as he spoke.

“You think being strong means never relying on anyone else, Coraline, but that’s not true.”

Coraline couldn’t help the irritation that spiked at those words. “This again?” she grumbled. “You think this is about me trying to prove myself, again, do you?”

“Well, I-!” Raz looked like he was about to get up, out his seat. Then he slumped forward, putting his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands.

“That came out wrong,” he said. “Look, forget I said anything. That was dumb.”

 

Coraline folded her arms, leaning back in her chair. The kitchen door had been left ajar, and the light outside was casting a long yellow stripe over the table between them.

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, either, I guess.”

Raz gave her a tired smile. “I think we both need some more sleep,” he said. “But hey, listen - offer from before, still on the table. Just so we’re clear. In fact, lemme just -”

Coraline rolled her eyes as he mimed picking something heavy up from the floor and placing it reverently on the table.

“There ya go, just - up on the table there -”

“You dork,” Coraline snorted. Raz shrugged, and gave her another smile - not his trademark grin, but one that was all in the softening and crinkling of his huge green eyes.

“On the table,” he repeated, dusting his hands off. “So… just let me know.”

 

This time, Coraline managed a wan smile of her own.

“Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is one i dug out of my "fic scraps" document. i often tend to write chapters pretty piecemeal, and in particular i'm sometimes seized with an idea for a cool scene or a fun conversation i just HAVE to include - so i'll add it to the fic scraps, and then paste it into the appropriate chapter when it rolls around (though, usually with extensive modifications).
> 
> most of the stuff in the document is either spoilers/future scenes from Omens, or just not very good, so i probably won't post a lot of it (unless there's a particular demand for it). however! two of my favourite MK authors (i know they're both on here, though i can't remember their handles, but they're @chronicler-of-legends and @mysterykidscasefiles over on tumblr!) recently posted fics which had a topic in common, which was ALSO a topic that i happened to have written a drabble about myself. i thought this was a pretty fun coincidence, so i found the time this weekend to dust it off and polish it up a bit. enjoy! (please also take this as an apology for the next chapter of Omens being so late. the outline is done and it's about two-thirds written, i just need to find the time to put some more meat on its bones.)
> 
> in terms of time-frame, i imagine this to take place close to the summer where they all first met. it's not explicitly omens-verse, so feel free to apply your own headcanons! (the characterisation, however, is consistent with omens and my own headcanons for that first summer, so feel equally free to consider this omens canon because it essentially is!)


End file.
